


Untitled (Kirk/Spock bloodplay)

by oddegg



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Bloodplay, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-30
Updated: 2010-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-08 13:05:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddegg/pseuds/oddegg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the reboot kink meme, for james_cedar's 'bloodplay, Kirk/Spock' request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled (Kirk/Spock bloodplay)

**Author's Note:**

> My poster's note at the time was _'..not as bloodplay-ey as I wanted. But it has biting, possessive!Spock, rimming, fucking and a smidgen of schmoop at the end. Hope that's ok?'_   
> james_cedar was kind enough to say it was ok. :)

Spock finds that he can not draw his eyes away from where his Captain has just been slashed. High on the pectoral muscle, a thin line of red that makes Kirk hiss and jump back from the blade he was milliseconds too slow to avoid.

 

Kirk turns the retreat into a quick, ducking move that brings his own knife close to his opponents side before the other avoids it and Spock should be observing this more closely, he knows, but his gaze and his awareness is still on that hair-line cut, the trickles of crimson running down from it to mix with the sweat beading on Kirk’s naked chest and smear, sticky-scarlet, over him as he moves.

 

The cut matches one Kirk has already received on his face. On the same side, his left, curving over his cheekbone like an accent, and Spock should be noting this flaw, this weakness in his training to report back to his Captain later – should perhaps feel concern over how close the facial injury came to Kirk’s eye, or irritation that the Captain had ignored Spock’s recommendation and accepted the challenge to a ‘friendship’ match with the Klingon he is now circling.

 

He feels none of those things. Instead he watches as Kirk collects two more thin wounds and as small bruises bloom on that golden skin and holds his clenched hands behind his back so that no one will see them tremble with the anger he feels. An anger that borders on rage, that has him clasping his own wrists tightly else he give in to his emotions and lunge across into the arena to punish this Klingon for marking what is _his_. What was Spock’s.

 

He did not understand why he felt this way now. He had seen Kirk injured before, seen him bleed from fights and battle. He knows the Captain is a capable fighter and he did not know why this, here, was different.

 

And then Kirk dived and rolled and came up with a strike that grazed his opponent across the abdomen and had the Klingon crowd roaring their approval and Spock saw the wild grin on the Captain’s face that re-split his already bleeding lip, saw the stain of blood on his teeth and the gleam in those blue eyes and he understood.

 

This was different because Kirk was _enjoying _this. Because he was finding this ‘fun’. And his Captain should not find pleasure in anyone else but Spock marking him.

 

He had done so before. Had put bruises on Kirk’s neck before they became lovers in anger and afterwards from the man’s own desire for it. Spock found Kirk’s liking for a lack of oxygen during coitus puzzling, but it was logical to wish to bring your lover pleasure and so Spock indulged Kirk in his proclivities, though he did not share them. Sometimes he even sensed through the bond touch gave him that his own scientific detachment when he had his hands on Kirk’s throat was part of the attraction of the act for the other man.

 

So he finds this sudden want in him to see evidence of harm on Kirk’s skin because _he_ put it there… disquieting, and his concentration is not as he would like as the match ends with laughter and the Klingon clapping Kirk on the back as he praised his ‘good – for a human’ fighting abilities – that his emotions are tumbling dangerously within him as he follows Kirk as he goes to clean up.

 

Despite his turmoil he is as silent as ever and he doesn’t miss the fleeting look of surprise on Kirk’s face as he turns and notices sees his first officer closing the door of the washroom behind him. The surprise colours the Captain’s tone as he begins to ask

“Spock? What…”

 

That is all he has time to say before Spock is pushing him hard against the wall and covering his mouth with his own. Too hard perhaps, he can hear pain in Kirk’s grunt and feel through his touch on Kirk’s naked skin that his already forming bruises were not eased by being slammed with Vulcan strength against a hard surface.

 

Spock tastes sweet, iron bright blood from Kirk’s cut mouth and cannot bring himself either to care or to reign himself in. He bites down hard on that swollen lip and when Kirk’s mouth parts in a gasp he worms his tongue inside, dominating the kiss.

 

Kirk’s hands come up to scrabble at his chest and Spock pulls away to gather both of his lover’s wrists and hold them tightly with one hand as Kirk pants and struggles. He studies the other man from under lowered brows and his anger flares again as he catalogues the marks the fight has left on him. The slash on his chest is shallow and has stopped bleeding now, but the evidence of it is still there, smeared red and dark across golden skin and the dark brown of his nipple.

 

Spock leans down and licks a long, firm stripe across the width of the cut. He hears Kirk’s indrawn breath and stills, lets his mouth hover above the mark and looks up at the other man’s face to meet his wide, stunned eyes. Spock asks softly

“Does that hurt?”

 

Kirk wets his lips and says, in a voice that cracks but cannot hide his want

“It… it stings a little”

 

“Good”

 

He bites down on the cut and Kirk cries out. Gasps above him as Spock worries the flesh with teeth and tongue till blood is flowing again freshly from it and he can tell there will now be a bruise – a mark _he _made – overlaid on top of it.

 

That thought rids him of any control he has hitherto had and, using his grip on Kirk’s wrists and a bruising hand at his hip, he flips the man to the floor, pins him down with his own body and proceeds to give every other mark he can find the same treatment. Biting and sucking, lapping at the blood as it flows, scratching new marks into Kirk’s skin as the man writhes and moans under him.

 

A slice has been cut in the Captain’s regulation trousers and Spock tears them from him to lick his way up the light scratch beneath. He is panting himself now and has been ignoring all else on his mission, but now he can make out the words Kirk is stuttering out between moans

“Spock! Oh, oh…oh god… please, _please_… Jesus, Spock – fuck me! _Please!!_”

 

The room they are in is for ablutions, and there would probably be something he could use to ease this coupling but Spock cannot make himself turn away to look. Cannot even blink at the sight of Kirk, fully naked now, cock flushed and hard and heavy against his stomach, begging and pleading for what he wants.

 

What Spock wants as well, but the small part of his mind that is still reasonable notes as he rips open his own uniform trousers that while Kirk’s body may _want, _it isn’t ready enough to _take_ – and so he pushes his Captain’s legs up and out, bends down, and does the rational thing and uses his mouth again.

 

This time Kirk doesn’t moan. This time he screams but Spock is not paying attention any more, concentrating on this new sensation. He has never done this before, has not had need when their previous couplings have all been in their quarters with easily produced supplies, and he finds his senses and his logic overwhelmed. This should not be pleasant, he should not enjoy this but the softness of skin and flesh here, the way it yields, the way the iron taste of blood still on his tongue mingles with sharp sweat and dark musk, the way he can feel muscles underneath clench and relax at the same time…

 

He is brought back from his reverie by the sharp pull of Kirk’s hand in his hair and his desperate sounding sobs of _“please – please – please…”_

 

Sweat and blood and pre-secretions gathered from the pool on Kirk’s torso below his cock are enough to coat Spock’s own member, and he notes detachedly that his hands are trembling again as he slicks himself up and lines up against Kirk’s entrance, still wet from his ministrations, before pushing oh-so-slowly inside.

 

This they had done before, many times. But Spock still feels the impact of it in his chest like a shining new thing. Feels it hard to draw in air as he looks down into his lover’s blue eyes, staring almost sightless with pleasure back at him. Feels it nearly impossible to draw out enough to thrust back again when all he wants was _in in in_. Wants to feel this tight, soft heat clenching around him always. Wants to press in hard and harder, feel Kirk’s gasping breath on his neck and hands on his back. Wants to burrow his way inside what is his, _his his HIS _and feel him shudder and tighten around him and shout as Spock thrusts in one last time, so deep, so good, so –

 

_“Jim…”_

His Jim.

 

* * *

 

Kirk’s harsh breathing was settling slowly and eventually he stretches, grimacing slightly at the pull of muscles, and says with a languid tone

“I’ve obviously got to start hanging out with Klingons more often”

 

Spock had already gained much of his own composure back but at that he stilled. He forced himself to ask coolly

“May I ask you to clarify?”

 

Kirk looked drowsy and thoroughly well used as he sprawled out on the floor, his smile and his half closed eyes full of all they have just done together and his voice amused as he answered

“Well, if it gets you to react like that, I think these friendly fights are a great idea”

 

“No!”

 

Before he knew it all Spock’s re-gathered calm shattered and he had hauled Kirk up to say, low and dangerous into the man’s shocked face

“You will not encourage others to harm you!”

 

Kirk’s own hands flew up to try to ease Spock’s hard grip on his shoulders and he winced slightly at the pressure as he exclaimed

“Whoa! Calm down there, buddy! I wasn’t really hurt – it’s just a handful of cuts and bruises!”

 

“You _will _not…, I do not want…”

 

Spock fights to master himself in the face of Kirk’s growing concern, forces his hands to let go and turns his face away. He takes a deep breath before saying as calmly as he can manage

“I do not wish for you to have such marks on you unless…”

 

He finds that he cannot keep from checking what response he will receive and looks back to meet Kirk’s eyes as he finishes softly

“…Unless I have put them there myself”

 

He knows that there is no such thing as an ‘endless moment’. That time passes in always at the same rate, regardless of the situation. But he feels that the long beat of silence stretches out forever before he sees those blue eyes flare with what looks like happiness before Kirk surges forward to kiss him, hot and urgently.

 

He feels dazed when the embrace ends and blinks at Kirk’s wide smile and pleased tone as he says, simply

“Ok”

 

Kirk’s smile goes softer and secretive as he watches Spock back, then he leans forward again to brush one softer, promising kiss against Spock’s mouth before tugging him gently to lay down flat on the floor. He repeats again through a yawn as he does

“O-o-kay. But now we’re just going to have a nap for a minute”

 

Kirk continues to grumble softly as he presses himself close against Spock’s side

“Fucked my damn brains out and didn’t even take your shirt off…”

 

Then his voice dies away as his breathing deepens.

 

There are things about Spock’s reactions to Kirk that he finds unsettling. There are many things about the man’s actions and responses back that he finds difficult to understand. His declaration of his impulse to harm and mark Kirk should not, surely, be shrugged off that lightly. Should not make the man curl up against Spock in sleepy contentment and push against his hands like a feline wishing to be petted.

 

Spock strokes a hand gently down Kirk’s back, listens to the pleased murmur it elicits with bemusement and finds that in this – as in many things to do with James T Kirk – the illogical has a certain sense to it.  

 


End file.
